


The Regimen

by brokenlittleboy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hand Jobs, Intimacy, John Was A Marine, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Season/Series 01, Spanking, Training Drills, Weecest, Weechesters, showering together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 01:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20381665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlittleboy/pseuds/brokenlittleboy
Summary: Sam and Dean live together, eat together, train together, shower together, sleep together, but sometimes John's military training can be a bit much.





	The Regimen

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is 13 (almost 14), Dean is 17.

Sam is sweaty from the mile John woke him up before dawn to run. And the 100 push-ups. And the everything fucking else. He feels like he’s made of spaghetti and jello.

Dean isn’t doing any better, though he’s better at looking like he is.

John looks at them both, no approval in his gaze, no disapproval either, just nothing. If Sam were any less exhausted he’d be pissed. 

“Water, one liter, and something from the fridge,” John says.

“Yes, sir,” Dean says, somehow not breathless.

Sam knows he’s supposed to repeat it but he doesn’t. He barely catches John’s eyeroll as he follows Dean inside and into the kitchenette.

Everything is a competition with Dean. He waggles his eyebrows at Sam as he chugs the water down in record time, some of it dripping down his lips and the column of his throat, places Sam knows he’s not supposed to look, but they all live on each other’s laps, so everyone already knows he looks.

So he looks a little, then lifts his gaze to Dean’s eyes and glares at him. He drinks his water like a normal person, not some sort of water Olympian. 

John’s regimens are kind of stupid, because they get defeated by the way they live. Diner food, fast food, cheap processed food. Tiny motel room in a dangerous city with nowhere to move or exercise. Then this. Then a hunt. Then back to a ratty couch and a broken TV and Dean.

The healthiest thing in the fridge is a mealy apple. Sam gets it down. Dean scarfs down some old, congealed mac and cheese like it’s god’s gift to earth.

John comes in when everything’s been cleaned and put away--even waxy, cardboard mac containers, just in case--like clockwork.

“Shower,” he says. “Military.”

Sam knows what that means. He goes red. “Dad,” he protests.

“I don’t want to hear it,” John snaps. “You need to be able to survive. I did this. Do you want me in there with you?”

Before Sam can respond, Dean drags Sam to the bathroom by the wrist.

John’s next regimen goes like this:

Dean pulls Sam’s shirt off. Sam pulls off Dean’s.

Dean tugs down Sam’s shorts, then his boxers. Sam does the same to Dean. They turn on the water and get under it before it can even get hot. Dean checks his watch. They have three minutes. 

The shower stall here is only big enough for half of Sam, let alone Sam plus Dean. They’re pressed together no matter what way they stand, sometimes front to front, sometimes Sam’s ass to Dean’s front, and their bodies get shiny as they rapidly scrub down with shampoo. Water off for this part. Back on for the rinse. 

Sam wants to be hard, but with John one room over and the clock ticking down and the rest of this awful day ahead of him, he can’t be. 

Rinse and out and dry in just under two and a half minutes. Dean helps Sam with his clothes and Sam helps Dean. They’re back to John, stiff-backed and ready for anything, just as John’s watch beeps. He nods at them. It’s the most praise they’ll get for months. Dean eats it up. Sam doesn’t care.

“Another mile,” John says, and Sam just barely holds back a groan. John’s phone rings. Stops. Rings again. John answers it. He listens and his face sours. “Okay.” He ends the call.

He looks at Dean. “Get Sam through the rest of the day,” he says. “I have something to take care of.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean says, as John turns on his heel and walks out.

And just like that, Sam can breathe again.

Dean slaps Sam on the back hard enough to force a grunt out of him. “You heard him,” Dean says, jogging toward the door. “Time to run.”

Sam lags after Dean early on. He’s a fast runner, faster than Dean, but he hates this shit so much. Why does Dean have to follow John’s orders even when he’s not around and the orders are stupid? Sometimes he just wants Dean to think for himself.

He’s only done a quarter mile through the park when he notices a break in the trees that implies a path that leads back toward the house. Dean is far enough ahead that he’s gone over a hill and can’t see Sam.

Sam breaks off, taking the path less traveled by, and arrives home, once again sweaty.

He takes a five minute shower and drops in front of the T.V. He’s only been watching  _ Power Rangers _ for four minutes when Dean bursts through the front door. His mouth drops open when he spots Sam.

“You did not get here before me--did you shower again?” Dean’s outrage is ridiculous.

Sam snorts at him. “Come watch T.V.,” he says, as invitingly as he can, and pats the stained cushion next to him.

Dean shakes his head. “You gotta stay fit.”

“I am fit,” Sam says. He lifts his shirt. “Look at me.”

“You know I gotta punish you,” Dean sighs.

Sam groans, but he’s going pink. “Dean, come on.”

Dean jerks his head toward the hall. “Be ready by the time I walk in.”

Sam goes into the bedroom. He pulls down his shorts and boxers and bends over the mattress, butt sticking out.

Dean comes in behind him and wastes no time. He slaps Sam on the cheek hard enough for it to sting. By the time he’s finished ten punishment slaps, Sam is crazy hard.

Dean helps him stand and of course he notices. “You need help with that?” he asks. “Gotta do it fast, you have to always be ready.”

There is so much there that Sam wants to yell at, but he nods his head instead. “Yes, please.” He reaches out. “I can help you, too.”

Dean yanks his shorts down and his sweaty cock springs free. They waste no time, stumbling together, jerking each other rapidly, kissing with nibbles, and Sam’s almost fourteen, okay. He comes almost immediately and Dean follows. Dean cleans them both up and gives Sam one last kiss.

They help each other put their clothes on. Dean checks the front yard for the Impala and the phone for any missed calls. All clear.

Dean gives Sam a stupid smile. “Power Rangers?”

Sam could spank him so hard.

Instead, he cuddles up on the couch next to Dean, letting his bones go loose and his heart go soft.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This idea popped into my head and wouldn't leave. I have Chris (transsammywinchester) to thank for some details.
> 
> <3


End file.
